


Accidental Feminism

by templeg



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-08
Updated: 2012-03-08
Packaged: 2017-11-01 16:04:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templeg/pseuds/templeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Hermione does magic. Set around 1988.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accidental Feminism

‘Her hair was heavy and quite black, and only curled at the tips; her eyes were greenish grey…’

Hermione frowns and closes the book, looking down at the cover. The girl in the painting peeks around a door, a candle in her hand and her long white nightdress trailing on the ground. Her hair falls across her shoulders in perfect golden ringlets.   
She knows it isn’t all the same girl. It isn’t at all likely. It sounds almost like one of the conspiracy theories she overhears her dad laughing about. Still, she glances at her bookcase, picturing book covers. The Secret Garden, The Little White Horse. Hermione pays attention to the words. She knows what the girls in those stories are meant to look like. It isn’t at all like this girl, the one who seems to be everywhere. What was that word she learnt? The one from Daddy’s big dictionary? Ubiquitous. Mary’s hair is yellow, but it isn’t curly or nice. Maria’s hair is red. Does nobody notice? She puts a hand to her hair and shoots a look of loathing at the hairbrush lying on the dressing table. No-one in stories has hair like hers. Hermione likes that those girls don’t have shiny blonde hair, like Matilda at school does. She’d still rather have Sara’s short black hair than hers, but at least Sara isn’t blonde. Except that this Sara, peeping around her door with a look of wide-eyed wonder, is. She wonders who drew her that way. Didn’t they read the book first? Didn’t they care? Hermione is suddenly furious. She’s never been very good at throwing- PE is her absolute worst thing ever- but the book hits the wall pretty hard, or so it seems to her. She is instantly appauled at herself, waves of guilt hitting her as she scrambles out of the armchair and across the floor. You’re never supposed to throw books. It’s one of her rules. And yet when she picks it up, she screams and throws it away from her again, shuffling backwards as though it might bite her.

Her mum’s voice floats up from downstairs. ‘Hermione, sweetie? Are you OK?’

Hermione takes several deep breaths, but her voice still comes out a bit wobbly. ‘It was just a spider, Mummy. I’m fine.’ It’s a rubbish lie- not least because she’s never been scared of spiders, and rolls her eyes when girls at school run squealing from them- but her mum seems satisfied. She turns her attention back to the book, edging towards it on her bottom. She picks it up in the very tips of her fingers.   
She didn’t imagine it. Sara is still edging around her door. Her face is still lit up by the candlelight. But the curls are gone. Instead, the flickering candlelight- except that of course it isn’t flickering, it’s only her nightlight shining on the cover, it has to be- shines on heavy black hair.


End file.
